


Payment

by disdainfreely



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Good Parent Jango Fett, baby Boba
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-27
Updated: 2019-08-27
Packaged: 2020-09-27 21:20:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20414476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/disdainfreely/pseuds/disdainfreely
Summary: Jango Fett receives the most important piece of his payment for the clone army.





	Payment

“You sure we’re ready for all this?” Kal asks, overlooking the vast number of cloning tubes.

“Probably not, but the money is good and it’s not like you haven’t trained fresh troops before,” Jango replies. Kal grunts, apparently unconvinced, but doesn’t push the point.

A long silence falls over them. There’s something hushed and sterile about Kamino that makes having a normal conversation feel like shouting indoors.

“Why’d you take this job?” Kal asks suddenly. Jango can’t see his eyes beneath his helmet, but he can tell Kal is looking at him.

“Good money,” Jango replies immediately. 

“That all?” Kal looks over the tubes of gestating clones. “Better be real good money.”

“It is,” Jango says. “Very good money.”

“That’s something,” Kal agrees. His arms are folded defensively. “When are the first ones going to be ready?”

“Any day now.” Jango knows he’s failing to keep the anticipation out of his voice. He can feel Kal’s sidelong look, helmet or no.

“It’s almost like you’re about to have a few thousand sons,” Kal says in that forced-casual voice that drives Jango up the wall and reminds him why he likes to work alone.

“No, it’s not. They aren’t mine. The Kaminoans made them. They just wanted my genome to do it.”

“If you say so.” Kal sounds wistful and Jango isn’t feeling cruel enough to bring up his ex-wife and ex-children. “You don’t feel anything for any of them?” 

“Not really.” Jango pauses for a moment. “There is something else I’m getting out of this deal.”

“Something else?”

“A son. One completely unaltered clone. No accelerated aging or other tampering.” Jango glances over at Kal. “He’s supposed to be ready with the first batch.”

Kal is quiet for long enough that Jango is starting to get concerned before he speaks. “Congratulations.” His voice is choked with emotions that Jango is kind enough not to comment on. “Soon then?”

“Soon.” Jango nods. “They’re going to call me when it’s time so I can be there.” 

“You’ve got everything you need for him?”

“For the moment. I’ll get more as it becomes necessary. I’m being paid enough for this that I won’t have to take jobs off world while he’s very young. I’ll have my hands full training the first batch anyway.”

“Stay with him. Be present,” Kal says ruefully. “You always think you have more time, and then it just...runs out.”

“I’ll be able to be here for him,” Jango says. “The way my father was for me.” 

“Do you have a name picked out for him?”

“I’m calling him Boba,” Jango says.

“Boba Fett.” Kal says the name like he’s trying to figure out how it tastes. “It’s a good name. A strong name.”

Jango is about to answer when he gets a sudden ping on his comms. He sighs. “They want me to look at some new training thing they cooked up.” 

“Ah, but that’s why you’re getting paid the very good money.” Kal laughs. “Have fun then.”

Jango resists the urge to make a rude gesture at Kal as he leaves but only just.

It’s a few days later when he gets the comm that it’s time. He arrives in just a soft tunic and leggings, having left his armor safely in his rooms.

Later, his son can know him in armor, but not yet.

Lama Su is waiting for him at the appropriate pod. “Are you ready?” His voice is insufferably calm and gives Jango the urge to hit things. But right now, his distaste for Lama Su can wait.

“I’m ready. Is he?” Jango nods toward the infant curled up in the pod, tiny hands tucked against his face.

“It is ready. We will begin the extraction process.” Lama Su nods to one of his various flunkies who’s sitting at a large control panel.

“How long will this take?” Jango asks.

“The process is quick. It will be finished momentarily.” Lama Su says like Jango’s chest isn’t squeezing tighter and tighter with each passing moment.

Jango forces himself not to pace. He forces himself to stand there patiently as the liquid slowly drains out of the tube, leaving only the baby.

Only Boba.

When the tube opens, and Lama Su gestures to someone to step forward and pick up the baby, Jango holds up a hand.

He is going to be the first person to hold his son.

Lama Su nods and offers him a towel and steps back. Jango steps up to the open tube. Boba is starting to whimper and squirm unhappily, and Jango can’t resist the urge to bundle Boba into the towel and into his arms. Boba’s slight weight is somehow more intimidating than the largest gun.

“Su cuy’gar, ik’aad,” Jango murmurs down to the tiny scrap of life that’s curling into his chest. “Ner Bob’ika.”

“Is the clone acceptable?” Lama Su asks. “Another can be made if this one isn’t to your liking.”

Jango swallows a curse at the thought, at even the implication, that this baby in his arms, his son, could in any way be improved upon.

“He’s perfect.” Jango manages to sound both composed and civil. Relatively. 

Lama Su nods, clearly pleased with the praise. “We have the proper nutritional supplement prepared as well.” 

“Don’t need that,” Jango replies, still entranced with his tiny son. “I’ve got everything he’ll need.” 

“Very good then.” Lama Su’s voice has returned to polite Kaminoan detachment.

Jango takes that as his cue to leave, Boba cradled in his arms. His ik’aad is so tiny, blinking up at him with solemn eyes. Tiny wisps of dark hair become more obvious in the light as Jango walks, and under his rapt attention Boba flexes ten tiny, perfect fingers. 

He’s the most perfect creature that Jango has ever seen. 

Jango had known that he’d wanted a child, but he hadn’t been prepared for how full and warm his chest would feel at the slight weight in his arms.

“Welcome home, Bob’ika,” Jango whispers as he opens the door to his rooms.

In preparation for Boba’s arrival, Jango has been gathering supplies. He lays Boba out on his bed and finishes carefully toweling him off. Boba burbles softly and Jango smiles down at him. Boba is perfect from head to toe. Absolutely perfect. Jango is sure that he’s never loved any creature in the universe nearly as much. 

After one more long, lingering moment spent staring at Boba, admiring his tiny son, Jango forces himself to get up and fetch a diaper and a little soft blue onesie.

Boba wrinkles his tiny nose and fusses at having his arms carefully threaded through his sleeves. Jango chuckles and scoops his son into his arms. He’s also already got a soft blanket ready, printed in green with Clan Fett’s symbol emblazoned in the corner. With the blanket wrapped firmly around Boba, Jango can move over to the small kitchen and start preparing a bottle.

He could have accepted Kaminoan perfectly formulated nutrition paste, but there’s no universe in which he’s feeding his son that strange paste instead of the same stuff that Jango was raised on.

“Hey, Bob’ika,” Jango says softly as he settles down on his couch with Boba cradled in the crook of his arm. “Want this?” He offers his son the bottle and smiles at the eager squeak from his son.

Outside, Kamino’s typical rain lashes against the window, but here, now, all that matters is Boba.

“I promise, Bob’ika. I will always be here for you. Always.” Jango kisses Boba’s head and relaxes into his seat to watch his son eat. 

He’d been wanting a son, but there’d never been a good time. Raising a son alone while bounty hunting is hardly feasible, at least not while he actively would have an infant in tow. If he had a child, he’d wanted to have one with the same support system his buir had when he was growing up, an entire clan of other adults to help with the younglings and teach them. Without the stability of clan, Jango had never had the opportunity to actually have any children. At least not any that he knew of. 

But now, here, he’s settled. Relatively settled, anyway, and the trainers he’s accumulated here are probably almost as effective as a clan. There’s at least a few of them that he would trust with a child. Well. Maybe. If he plans on trusting anyone else with Boba. Jango gently tickles his baby’s belly.

His perfect son.

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked this, come find me on twitter under the same name and cry about Mandos and clones. I have a lot of feelings.


End file.
